Chapter Three: Ice Castle

Admiral Adguard pounded one hand on his desk, throwing a datacard report to the ground with the other. "How could they have escaped us?" he roared. It was rare for the Admiral to loose his composure, but to have his schemes thwarted by a slip of a girl was beyond infuriating.

The Admiral's majordomo stood against the tirade, listening calmly. He was one of the few beings to have experienced the Admiral's hot temper before. "Sir, if I may?"

Adguard took in a deep breath and released it slowly. His temper cooled. "Speak."

The majordomo nodded gratefully. "Angela Marshair is clearly a capable and intelligent young woman. Devising a successful escape plan on the spot hints at her limitless potential. Against such an opponent, it would be advisable to have her assassinated, rather than shot out of the sky."

"A scalpel rather than a hatchet," the Admiral reasoned. "Majordomo, you're insight has served me well. Prepare a request to any bounty hunters on Rakaris. They are to bring Angela Marshair to me. Alive, if possible."

"And what of those who travel with her?"

The Admiral shrugged, uncaring. "Kill them. They are of no consequence. The Jedi princess is all that matters."

The majordomo nodded once and stood silently for a moment, pondering. Then, he spoke again. "Admiral, there is also word of Admiral LeFrein. Intelligence says that he's on the move, possibly to intercept Jedi Marshair. What are your orders, sir?"

Adguard blinked in surprise. "He went after her personally?"

"By all indications, sir, yes."

The Admiral rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a cruel smile spreading across his lips. "That is a most dangerous thing for him to do, and stupid. It would be a shame if he were to, say, get caught up in a crossfire."

The majordomo nodded and saluted him. "I shall inform the bounty hunters of your command, sir."

"No, majordomo. Don't tell the bounty hunters that. Alert the Fortune of Demise that it has a chance to redeem itself. Inform them that I will personally oversee this."

"I understand, Admiral. It shall be done."


The white windswept plains of Hoth stretched out below the three adventurers, the ice and snow of the morning blizzard cutting right through their cloaks and coats. They made their way along frosty mountain trails, the snow piling around them, the wind howling in their ears. Already they had faced the dangers of Hoth's frigid climes and its equally deadly denizens; no less than four Wampas lay dead along the path they had trod.

"Kind of reminds me of home," Kanig said through chattering teeth. The snow was up to his knees, and he threw his arms wide to the left and right as he moved, trying to build up the torque to push his legs through the powder.

"Is it this cold on your world?" Angela asked, following right behind him.

"No," the Zabrak replied, "but where I'm from, it's just as barren. By the Core Worlds, I can barely feel my legs!"

"Lad, I hear your pain," Ooroosh gurgled. Frost rimmed his tusks and whiskers. He absently cleared snow from the barrel of his blaster. "How far are we from that energy reading?"

Angela looked down at her portable sensor, wiping snow and ice off its monitor. "About another three kilometers." She pointed to the east. "We'll have to leave the path here and climb. The readings are coming from that cave on top of that ledge."

Ooroosh looked up and bubbled out a groan. "That's an almost vertical climb, girl."

"That's why we have these," she replied, checking the straps of her backpack, which was filled with climbing equipment and cold-weather survival tools. Her companions wore similar gear. She strode off the path, plowing through the snow and ice, relying on her Jedi training to push aside the numbing sensation in her legs. She wondered absently if she would end up with frostbite.

They climbed. As soon as they made some headway, a fragment of ice would tear off from the mountainside and send them plummeting back several meters. Occasionally, they would rest for water breaks and to give their aching arms a chance to recover. It took almost five hours to reach the cave.

Angela led the way, a glowrod gleaming as she held it aloft. The light played against crystal formations that she recognized as derivatives of Adgean and diamond. Her mother had worn rings and necklaces with such stones in them. "If I mined this place," she mused aloud, her voice echoing eerily in the dark cave, "I could retire a rich woman."

Ooroosh drew forth his own glowrod and secured it to the barrel of his blaster. Angela gave him a questioning look. The Aqualish shrugged. "I've been in enough of these caves to want to be armed," he explained. "Remember our last expedition in a place like this."

She winced at the memory of Ran's death. The shiver that coursed through her limbs was not from the cold. She unclipped Ran's lightsaber from her belt and held it tightly in her other hand.

"Hey!" Kanig called out from the side of the cave he had been exploring. "Take a look at this." He showed them a humanoid corpse, nothing more than a frost-rimmed skeleton in ragged clothes decayed by time. A small durasteel crate was next to the body. "There's an old Rebel Alliance marking on the crate," he announced, brushing away ice crystals and dust. The Zabrak's eyes were wide with wonder. "This must date back to the early days of the war."

"And could possibly tell us more about this cave," Angela added. She eyed the crate expertly and recognized its make and function. "That thing's a high-end scanning device. It was top-of-the-line back during the Rebellion. My…my Master showed me one when we staged a revolution against an alliance of tyrannical despots along the Mid Rim worlds." She cleared her throat when she choked on Ran's name.

To push aside the dark memories, she busied herself with finding the release catches on the crate. "If I remember correctly, there should be some kind of depression around the top edge…ah, here it is." The lid hissed as compressed air was expelled. It popped open with a quiet creak. "These units were used to scan some real delicate areas, and the Rebels didn't want to risk losing such precious information to their enemies," she explained. "So, of course, they put some safety measures in it."

Inside the crate was a large scanner, blocky and bulky, trademarks of Rebellion-era technology. She pulled a few levers and pressed a series of colored switches. The device hummed to life after decades of being under the cold. "Now let's see what this old bucket has in its memory core," she murmured. "Kanig, give me a datapad. I'm going to plug in and download whatever's in there."

Half an hour later, the massive memory core was completely transferred to a datapad. The party spent the next while pouring over what they had found. The cave was originally connected to a much larger complex of underground waterways that had dried up long, long ago, leaving only empty tunnels. The heavy mineral deposits in the cave extended throughout the tunnel system. A number of ancient corpses found in those tunnels indicated that miners had tried to take advantage of the wealth buried in the mountain at one point in time.

"But looks like the tunnels connecting to this cave collapsed," Kanig noted, reading the datapad. "And looks like they collapsed only within the last century or so. Acoustic readings say that there probably isn't that much rock between this cave and the open sections of the tunnels."

"Which means that I can cut through them," Angela reasoned. She scrolled through the datapad and pointed at energy readings taken over the course of three months. "Look here. That Rebel soldier found the same energy signatures we picked up. Almost like its some kind of defensive grid—blaster turrets or something. Ah, wait, here's something else. Seems those signatures have all the markings of a force field. We didn't see that on our scanners."

"That's probably because the Dancer's scanner array isn't as sophisticated as this," Ooroosh said. "But a force field in this mountain? Sounds a lot like that strange underground complex back on that planet near Dagobah."

Angela nodded. She had come to the same conclusion. "Which means that they key is probably guarded. But we don't exactly have a choice. Kanig, where's the weakest point in this cave? Preferably a point with very little rock to cut through."

Kanig gave her a location and she went to it. Ran's lightsaber filled the cave with blue light and she went right to work, slicing great blocks of stone from the ground and lifting them away with her mind. The hour passed in sweaty fashion. By the time she had finished her task, she was both mentally and physically exhausted. But there was a hole in the ground that stretched ten meters below into a tunnel.

Kanig handed her a condensing canteen, from which she greedily fortified herself. "Thanks," she said.

"Not a problem." He helped her to her feet. "Ooroosh is getting the liquid cable dispensers and fixing us a way down. You all right?"

She nodded. "Just a little tired. It's passing already, so don't worry about me."

They ascended down the cables into the tunnel system. Angela tried to shake off the growing feeling of dread that clawed at her soul. The setting was just so similar to the complex that she and Ran had ventured into back on Rakaris—a complex that ultimately led to his violent end. She could not help but wonder if another of her friends would end up the same.

And then she felt it: the darkness of a guardian, the same darkness that had claimed her Master. "I know where we need to go," she said absently, her senses focused on that black violence swirling deeper within the tunnels. The darkness filled her mind, consumed her attention. All she could think about was confronting and overcoming it. Ran would have wanted her to do that.

Like a sleepwalker, she strode through the maze of tunnels, her companions pulled along behind her. They asked her questions, tried to talk to her, but she did not hear them or answered them. All she could hear was the soft voice of the guardian. She navigated the confusing labyrinth without thought or contemplation; she just knew where to go. The Force surrounded her, inky and sludge-like, a morass that stuck to her flesh like sewage. She was caught in it, but she did not fight it. Instead, she let its murky current take her along.

And then she stood before the familiar shimmering force field. And it parted for her. And she stepped through. Her friends remained behind it, shouting her name, calling for her, wanting her to wake from whatever spell had ensnared her. But she did not hear them. She heard the guardian: Breathing, soft and controlled. The whisper of silk against silk. The hiss of a readied lightsaber.

And she saw. A woman stood before her, lithe and elegant, her face shrouded in a black silk mask. Her clothes were of the softest silk, tied by a fine sash around her slim waist. In supple, black-gloved fingers she held aloft her red-blazing weapon. Angela strode up to her, doffed her coat and cloak, her own green blade humming. No words were exchanged, no circling or testing of defenses. Here, in this circular chamber that looked so much like Ran's place of death, the energies of impending violence heated the cold Hoth air.

It was someone like her that took Ran from me, Angela thought. Ran, give me the strength to overcome. I will confront this woman with the discipline of a Jedi.

They met in battle. Their weapons buzzed and crackled and thrummed as they slid past each other. Angela lashed out with a side kick, snapped that same leg out in a roundhouse. The guardian blocked both with a rotation of her forearm and countered with a thrust of her lightsaber. Angela turned aside and let the deadly beam of energy slice by her tunic.

They danced like lovers, so well they seemed to complement each other. It was at the same time mesmerizing and horrible, but the brown-haired girl did not appreciate it in the slightest. All she could feel was the tempo of combat, the sweat upon her own brow, the heat rising beneath her clothes as she pushed herself to exhaustion. Her guard slipped once, twice, thrice, and each time her foe's wicked blade scorched her flesh.

But she did not cry out or bat an eyelash, for washed in the rush of adrenaline and battle, she was immune to the sensation of pain. She solidified her defenses, lashed out aggressively, switched from offense to defense and back again with erratic unpredictability. But her gambits were foiled every time by her opponent, who seemed to know her every move before she did.

Then she felt the red blade slide into her thigh and a cry of agony broke through her lips, shattered her Jedi serenity, and dissolved her discipline. She fell to one knee, panting heavily, exhaustion lowering her head. Perspiration dripped from her brown locks and splashed upon the stone floor. The red blade rested upon her shoulder, forcing her to yield. She looked up into the guardian's eyes, the only part of her figure that was not hidden under black silk. They held no life in them, only the command of duty. They demanded her to admit her defeat.

"Not in all the worlds' hells," Angela growled, swinging her lightsaber back and parrying the red blade away. She stood shakily, putting her weight on her good leg. "I won't give up! Ran died for whatever you're guarding, and I am not going to let him down."

The guardian looked at her silently, lightsaber lowered but still burning.

"I won't be beaten," Angela said sternly.

The guardian's lifeless eyes took on a saddened gleam. Sad for her.

"What are you about?" the brown-haired girl demanded. "Are you pitying me? Why?" Her questions grew hot and angry. "You and yours took Ran from me! A Jedi never attacks, they say. So raise your blade and attack me, bitch—give me an excuse to kill you!"

But the guardian did nothing of the sort. She simply stood there, those sad eyes boring into her. Angela's rage grew. Who was this woman who would look upon her so? "I don't want your pity!" she shouted, but the guardian took the tirade without blinking. "Why do you look at me like that? Why don't you speak? Answer me, damn it!"

When the guardian again said nothing, Angela lost her temper. The brown-haired girl charged, screaming wildly. The blue blade cut through the black silk with such cruel ease. There was no resistance against the burning beam. The guardian fell without a sound or a murmur. The only sounds in the circular chamber were the hum of a blue-bladed lightsaber and Angela's quiet tears.

Somehow the chamber grew darker, as if some great hand had blotted out the sun.

Angela emerged from the chamber and rejoined her friends beyond the force field. Her face was as pale as the snow on the plains and her hands trembled with a chill that came from within her rather than from the air. "I found this on the guardian," she stated stiffly through blue lips. She gave Ooroosh a stone rod, identical to what they had stolen from Kel Sunderson's collection. "We're leaving." Her tone brooked no argument.


They made their back down the mountainside and back onto the plains where they had landed their ship. But they were not alone. Another transport sat beside theirs and a Rodian stood amidst the snow with four others of his kind.

"It seems we're expected," Ooroosh noted offhandedly. "That's Qomon Klay, one of the tougher bounty hunters around the Rakaris system." He turned his bulbous eyes to her. "You have a price on your head, girl."

Angela looked right at the Rodian, her eyes burning with determination. "I won't let scum like him stand between me and finishing this quest," she promised with such chill that she made the snowstorm feel warm.

As they approached, the bounty hunter announced, "I am Qomon Klay. I think myself a generous man and will allow you the chance to surrender peacefully. If not, I'll have to kill you." He gestured to his confederates, who raised blasters.

"You're dealing with a Jedi," Angela said icily. "I'll give you the chance to surrender peacefully." Her lightsaber painted the snow with a sickly blue light. "Get lost or face the consequences."

To their credit, the bounty hunters did not bat an eyelash against her calm authority. Lesser beings would have quaked in their boots from the mere sight of a Jedi. These men, Angela knew from their cool professionalism, were veterans. But they would be dead veterans soon enough.

The battle was fierce and Kanig had taken a severe blaster burn to his right arm at the start of the fight. With her wounded leg, Angela seemed to move at half speed, but she was still faster than the Rodians. Between her blade, Kanig's pike, and Ooroosh's blaster, the bounty hunters swiftly met their end. Five corpses littered the field.

Angela pointed to Kanig. "Search their ship," she ordered. "Take any gear or rations they might have and look for any information about who sent them. Ooroosh, help him. I'll get the Dancer ready to fly." Preparations took less than ten minutes and by that time, her companions had returned to the ship, their arms laden with procured goods.

"Find anything?" she asked as she heated the engines.

Kanig had looted a datacard from one of the bounty hunters. He slipped it into the computer. Documents scrolled across the screen. "Admiral Adguard," he said simply.

"He wants to quietly assassinate me," she reasoned. But then she saw one document in particular. "Wait, no, that's not right. It says here that he wants me alive. But why?" Then the answer hit her. "Of course. He wants to know whatever it is I know about the Fall of Empire."

"Which, ironically, you know nothing about," the Zabrak noted.

"That isn't entirely true anymore, Kanig. We know how to turn the thing on, whatever it is. These keys are the heart and soul of it, I'm positive of that. If Adguard catches us, and gets the keys, we'll have a mess on our hands."

"We'll have a mess no matter what we do," the Zabrak said, plotting in hyperspace coordinates. "I have the feeling that whatever the Fall of Empire is, its going to leave a big mark. Calculations set for Corellia. At least the last stop is someplace warm."

It was meant as a joke, but Angela did not laugh.